Date: Second Sunday after Pentecost, June 6, 2010

Text: Galatians 1:11-24

Title: Not man’s Gospel

If it would have been up to Paul, he still would have been persecuting Christians. It took Jesus, coming to Paul, waking up Paul, putting Paul on the path of preaching, to turn Paul from a Jesus-hater to a God-fearing, Gospel proclaimer of Jesus Christ.

The message that Paul wound up preaching wasn’t his gospel; it’s Jesus’ Gospel. He didn’t get it from any man; He got it from Jesus. Man’s gospel is the exact opposite of Jesus’ Gospel. Man’s gospel is this: pull yourself up by your own bootstraps. Man’s gospel is this: treat others the way you want to be treated, unless that won’t help you get what you want. Man’s gospel is this: I don’t get mad, I get even.

Paul wants you to know that being a Christian is only by God’s grace: completely, utterly, one-hundred-percent, by God’s grace. Paul didn’t put in request to be a Christian. Neither did you. That you are sitting here, enjoying the grace of God for Jesus’ sake, has nothing to do with you and everything to do with God choosing you, just as He chose Paul.

If it were up to any of you, you would be out doing your own thing. You would be living by your own gospel. Your good news would have nothing to do with God and everything to do with you because, frankly, you are full of yourself.

Paul was full of himself. He was the most zealous Jew. He was the best trained. He had the right genes. He belonged to the right group of people. And, you can bet your Hot-and-Ready pizza that Paul knew all of this, and he was eating it up every last crust of it.

Without the grace of God, we all are full of ourselves. I want what I want and, as for what you want, the caring switch on my heart needs a five-gallon drum of WD-40 shot into it.

Last Wednesday night, I wanted perfection. I was in front of my TV, screaming at the top of my lungs at the injustice that was just served to Armando Galarraga, in the moments after umpire Jim Joyce botched the call of what should have been the twenty-seventh out of a perfect twenty-seven up and twenty-seven down.

You can imagine how Tigers’ pitcher, Galarraga, felt: angry; crying for justice; asking for the head of Jim Joyce on a platter. You can imagine how Tigers’ manager, Jim Leyland, reacted: bad-mouthing the ump; calling for Major League Baseball to overturn the call and give Galarraga his perfect game. And, since you’ve seen it plenty of times in the reactions of people who have been caught in a mistake, you can imagine how umpire, Jim Joyce, handled himself, in those hectic minutes after the game: denying that it was a bad call; finding reasons to defend it—that the pitcher missed the bag, or that he was bobbling the ball, or that he didn’t care what the replay showed, the runner beat Galarraga to the bag.

Wednesday night, I wanted perfection. When I didn’t get perfection, baseball-style, I got perfection, humility-style—not man’s gospel-style, but Gospel-of-Jesus Christ-style.

First, the umpire, Jim Joyce: "I blew the call. I took a perfect game away from that kid. I feel terrible." Now, manager Jim Leyland, when he was told how badly Joyce was feeling: "I gotta go see him. I’ll take him out for a beer. I don’t even drink beer, but I’ll have a beer with him." Finally, the pitcher, Armando Galarraga: "Nobody’s perfect."

Nobody’s perfect. He said that, in the locker room, right after the game. No screaming. No crying. Not a single appeal for justice. "Nobody’s perfect."

In the realm of baseball, let me make it clear why this would be such a big deal to a major league pitcher. I did the math, yesterday morning. There have been over two-hundred-thousand games in the history of Major League Baseball, and in only twenty did a pitcher throw perfect game, allowing zero base-runners.

Twenty perfect games out of two-hundred-thousand is one perfect game out of every ten-thousand games played. How rare is this? If I were to preach one perfect sermon that often, after fourteen years as a pastor, I would still have ninety-nine-thousand sermons to go, before I hit ten thousand.

The next day, Jim Leyland had Galarraga take the line-up card to home plate, where Jim Joyce would be the home plate ump for Thursday’s game. Jim Joyce cried tears of thankfulness for Galarraga’s grace. Galarraga smiled. Joyce patted him on the shoulder. And, the fans, who so badly wanted to boo, now couldn’t help but cheer.

Armando Galarraga and Jim Leyland showed the heart of Jesus Christ, and Jim Joyce showed the heart of every humble sinner. Forgiveness begins in the heart of the offended. That Galarraga and Leyland would not hold a grudge, but were understanding of the failings of mankind and happy to forgive the transgression of another, paved the way for umpire, Joyce, to freely admit his fault and not beat himself up.

If Galarraga and Leyland would have cried foul and gone after Joyce’s head, you can imagine that he would have fought back. Or, worse, he could have gotten mad at himself and depressed. In 1986, after California Angels’ pitcher, Donnie Moore, blew a playoff game by giving up a game-winning home run, he was mercilessly booed and chewed up by the press. Donnie Moore shot himself to death.

Are you applying this to your life? How many times have you had the opportunity to look past the wrong that another did to you? How many times did you go for their throat with your words, and grudges, and hatred?

How many times have you been the one to wrong another? How often did you get the words and grudges and hatred? Did you like it? Did it bring peace? Did it make everyone feel better?

When the person you wronged extended the hand of forgiveness, were you dazzled by their kindness? Did you like it? Did it bring peace? Did it make you feel better?

The day after, Armando Galarraga dazzled me some more. He was able to say that everything happens for a reason, then, "Maybe this will make me a better man."

Armando Galarraga is a modern-day St. Paul. Galarraga is not preaching man’s gospel. He has a firm handle on the real Gospel—which is filled with kindness, forgiveness, and love.

This is the Gospel that Jesus put into the mouth of Paul, so that Paul could write the words of the Bible which dazzle you with God’s kindness, God’s forgiveness, God’s love in Jesus Christ.

Forgiveness began in the heart of the offended—in the heart of God. God didn’t cry foul, but gave His Son over to the foulness of your sins. It is this Gospel of God’s grace that moves you to admit your every blown call—every time you do wrong and every time you fail to do right. It is this Gospel of God’s grace that moves you to have a heart of forgiveness toward those who sin against you—who do you wrong and fail to do you right.

This is the work that the Holy Spirit works in you through the proclamation of the Father’s gift of His Son, Jesus. This is what it means to be baptized into Jesus Christ: you have received the heart of Christ; you are now forgiven, and a forgiver. This is what it means to partake of Christ’s body and blood in His Communion: that you don’t live in the selfishness of man’s non-gospel, but in the love of Jesus’ life-giving Gospel.

Just as Paul received the Gospel from Jesus, you have received the Gospel from Jesus. This Gospel gives you a heart to forgive, as you are forgiven; so that, when you are in the spot that Armando Galarraga was in, on Wednesday, you can humbly admit, "Nobody’s perfect," and then turn your heart of thanks to Jesus Christ, who is your perfect game. Amen.